A Legacy in Fur

RYOCHAN

July 12, 2025

My mother inherited her mother’s fur coat—my grandmother had worn it more than forty years ago, and it’s been treasured ever since as a precious keepsake. But fur is demanding: it needs special storage, regular cleaning, protection from moths… and my mother has simply run out of time and energy to care for it. We polled relatives, but no one wanted such a cumbersome garment. The fur shop offered to buy it back, but for only a token amount—far less than its sentimental value.
I find myself torn over what to do with an item so rich in memories. Is there a single “right” answer? In Japan, we have the ritual of otakiage (お焚き上げ), a religious ceremony in which we symbolically return a deceased person’s belongings to the fire, offering prayer and respect as the items burn. Since ancient times, Japanese thought holds that cherished objects carry a spirit or memory of their owners. Through otakiage, we entrust those spirits to the fire deity and send them back to the heavens, honoring the departed.
Now, as a modern person, I also believe it makes sense to pass the coat on to someone who will genuinely use and care for it. But would doing so dishonor my grandmother’s memory? I’m caught between practical kindness and spiritual reverence—and I wonder which path truly honors her legacy.

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A Legacy in Fur

My mother inherited her mother’s fur coat—my grandmother had worn it more than forty years ago, and it’s been treasured ever since as a precious keepsake.

But fur is demanding: it needs special storage, regular cleaning, protection from moths… and my mother has simply run out of time and energy to care for it.

We polled relatives, but no one wanted such a cumbersome garment.

The fur shop offered to buy it back, but for only a token amount—far less than its sentimental value.

I find myself torn over what to do with an item so rich in memories.

Is there a single “right” answer?

In Japan, we have the ritual of otakiage (お焚き上げ), a religious ceremony in which we symbolically return a deceased person’s belongings to the fire, offering prayer and respect as the items burn.

Since ancient times, Japanese thought holds that cherished objects carry a spirit or memory of their owners.

Through otakiage, we entrust those spirits to the fire deity and send them back to the heavens, honoring the departed.

Now, as a modern person, I also believe it makes sense to pass the coat on to someone who will genuinely use and care for it.

But would doing so dishonor my grandmother’s memory?

I’m caught between practical kindness and spiritual reverence—and I wonder which path truly honors her legacy.

A Legacy in Fur